


Satisfaction feels like a distant memory

by HydraNoMago



Series: Santa and Krampus AU [3]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series), The Try Guys (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Fluff, Comfort No Hurt, Episode Related, Established Relationship, Existential Crisis, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Immortals, Krampus - Freeform, M/M, Made For Each Other, Magic, Too Many Spirits, santa, soft, supportive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HydraNoMago/pseuds/HydraNoMago
Summary: “You love being Santa, don’t you?”“I certainly don’t hate it.” Ryan perked his ears up.“And you love the children so much that you want to wrap them in hugs forever right?”“Of course I do.”“But Ryan, how long should we keep doing this?”Santa and Krampus AU — Can you ever defy who you are, to be who you want? Featuring existential crises, a really awesome Steven Lim, power couple energy, and the OG Santa and Krampus.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Series: Santa and Krampus AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050128
Comments: 13
Kudos: 36





	Satisfaction feels like a distant memory

**Author's Note:**

> And we’re back with another instalment of the Santa and Krampus AU! Possibly the final one to be honest. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for your unwavering support and encouraging responses! Without it I would never have found the motivation to write this much based on a prompt for this AU. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one too! 
> 
> (Please read the first two shorter than this one fics for the full experience and to know the lore.)

**_I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…_ **

* * *

Ryan scowled at the discordant ringing of the doorbell as he pressed on its grimy surface, tapping his foot to the tune of Toploader’s ' _Dancing in the Moonlight_ ’ which had been playing in his head all day. The weather was gradually becoming colder; Christmas would be upon them soon. He was dreading the pickup of traffic in their schedules already.

The door opened with a wide swing, revealing Shane who had a bag of popcorn in his hand. For a perfect moment, he was framed in the doorway, silhouetted by the soft glow of the hallway light like a holiday advert or an indie Hallmark card. “Well, you’re early.”

Ryan gulped and squirrelled the snapshot of that view into the labelled Rolodex of his memory called ‘ _Shane_ ’. It was filling up more and more these days. “So you’re going to deny me entry?”

“Depends,” Shane played along, crossing his arms and scrutinising Ryan in a bad imitation of a bouncer. “Did you bring the dough, kiddo?”

Ryan sighed dramatically and held up the bottle of red wine which Shane liked so much, earning a happy sound of approval from the other. Shane made grabby hands for the bottle, stepping aside when he finally got hold of the precious cargo. “You shall pass,” he rumbled in his most obnoxious Gandalf voice, and Ryan rolled his eyes at him fondly before leaning up for a quick kiss.

Even after almost a year of seeing each other, they were still hopelessly idiotic and goofy; but their dynamic suited them well. Shane hip-checked the door, planting a wet smooch on Ryan’s cheek before hurrying to the kitchen; ignoring Ryan’s teasing ‘ _Why do you have to be so gross?’_ from the hallway. With practiced ease he poured them both glasses, and placed the popcorn in the machine. Two arms encircled his torso, and he felt Ryan burying his face in his back. “Let me guess: chimney training.”

“Chimney training!” Ryan confirmed with a muffled wail. Shane’s bright laugh sent tremors throughout his body which reverberated in Ryan’s own. Ryan grumbled, “Most people don’t even have chimneys anymore. It’s pointless to do it so many times.”

“You just hate the fact that you have to do it with the fat suit on.”

“I’d like to see you in a fat suit,” Ryan retorted, but immediately regretted. He could _hear_ Shane’s incredulous eyebrow raise. He lifted his mouth from Shane’s shirt, “I would not like to see you in a fat suit; I’d like you to wear a fat sui— you know what, forget it.”

“And a wild Kinky Bergara has appeared!” Shane guffawed, turning in Ryan’s grasp to hug him properly and pat him on the head.

Ryan blushed a lovely shade of red which made the other want to munch on his cheeks; and flapped Shane’s hand away. “Stop making everything sexual!”

But Shane couldn’t resist another jab, “Really Ryan? Everything?” He leaned down (and he really loved their height difference some days; how he was able to cage Ryan in and hold him close to himself to be cherished and protected), nuzzling his nose against Ryan’s neck and relishing in his partner’s hitched breath. His hands trailed down a broad back tenderly, tracing each spinal vertebrae. “Even this?” he asked lowly, knowing that Ryan liked the rumble of this register. He retracted his hands to the front, cupping the shape of Ryan’s ribs and rubbing slow circles there.

“You’re evil. Pure fucking evil.” Even though Shane couldn’t see his expression, he knew for sure that Ryan’s mien was set between indignant and embarrassed, a shade which excited the blood in his veins every time.

“I’m Krampus, baby,” he nipped Ryan’s ear sharply, and then licked it; causing the victim to land a swift punch to his gut. “Fucking hell, Ryan,” he wheezed, doubled over the counter behind him.

“Oh don’t be a child, it wasn’t that hard.” Ryan straightened his t-shirt and reached over for one of the wine glasses coolly, tamping down his racing pulse.

“You’ve got guns the size of Texas, what do you mean it wasn’t hard!” Shane added an exaggerated groan of pain as he slowly descended to the kitchen floor, arms splayed out wide and invitingly. “It hurts too much,” he whined, “now you gotta kiss the boo-boo, Bergoogoo.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Ryan laughed, setting down his wine glass and crouching at Shane’s feet. “I’m starting to wonder why I agreed to date you in the first place.” His tone was too soft and the light in his eyes was too warm for it to be anything but a compliment.

“My good looks?” Shane preened. “My charm? My awesome fashion sense. Oh wait,” he raised his brows suggestively, “it’s because you’ve a kink for furries, is that it?”

“Oh, fuck you!” Ryan exclaimed with no heat.

“Feel free,” Shane replied with it, then grabbed Ryan’s hand to pull him into an embrace; his laughter a harkening of good times to come.

* * *

“New recruit?” Ryan nodded to a new face near the printers in the office. He was enjoying a well-earned mug of leftover eggnog from last night’s Christmas party. Deliveries went as well as it could for everyone, and they had celebrated it with the tradition of bingeing on as much food and alcohol as possible. Shane had shook his head dismally at Ryan when he caught sight of his disheveled appearance that morning, before pressing a wet kiss to his forehead and reporting in to his own workplace.

“Oh yeah, that’s Lara,” Ned answered, typing away on his phone. Ryan guessed that he was texting his wife again (he understood now the need to be in constant contact with the one you love all day). “She’s been assigned to Kelsey, I think.”

Keith rolled over to them in his office chair, swinging around to hook his legs at the edge of a desk; cursing when he hit it too hard. Both Ryan and Ned merely pursed their lips at Keith’s daily folly. He really needed to be more aware of the space his body was taking up. “Poor kid though,” he sympathised, fishing a Twinkie bar from his pocket. “It was one of the coldest nights of the year at her place.”

“Which was?”

“Glasgow.”

Ryan furrowed his brows. “Who’s in charge of that area again?”

Keith shrugged, already halfway done in devouring his sugary snack. Ryan was about to ask the next question, but Keith anticipated it easily, “Accident. Slippery road. Poor tyres.”

“Oh no,” Ned sympathised, putting his phone down. “She’s barely a teenager.”

“Yeah, that’s—” Ryan didn’t want to think about it too much. He could picture it all too clearly. A semi-dark road, the ice crunching beneath the tyres, a wrong swerve, then the horrific crash. He doesn’t want to unpack his own demons. “I hope they go easy on her.”

“If it’s Kelsey, I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“Yeah, if it’s our Kelsey you mean,” Keith stuffed the empty wrapper back into his pocket. “The other is just a teensy bit well suited to be a Krampus.”

“Hey Ryan, where are you going?”

He swallowed hard, fingernails cutting crescent moons into his palms. “Some air.” He didn’t catch the worried looks Ned and Keith sent over his retreating shoulder, or Ned picking up his phone to text someone.

* * *

Ryan braced himself heavily against the metal railing of the balcony at the back of the building, breathing in the cold air harshly. He shivered from the freezing snow, but was more or less used to the fact after working in an office in the North Pole for so long. The swirling snow before him lashed with increasing frenzy, and it stirred the bile building up in his throat.

_Don’t think about it_ , he told himself, pressing his hands against his eyes and taking great shuddering breaths. _Just don’t think about it_.

He was so focused that he didn’t hear the sound of footsteps behind him until a warm jacket was wrapped around his shoulders. “Fancy being a popsicle?”

“Ned texted you, didn’t he,” he mumbled into his hands, wiping them down his face, catching Shane’s worried look. A stab of guilt curled in the base of his stomach for being the one responsible for it. “I’m fine,” he quickly said.

“Are you really? And no, don’t answer that, it was a rhetorical question.”

Ryan huffed in irritation but didn’t bother to defend himself. He had a very poor track record of lying to Shane anyway. Shane’s hand clasped his own, and the weight of it was more comforting than Ryan would willingly admit. Instead, he stubbornly kept schtum, letting the sound of the wind wash over them.

Shane ran his thumb over Ryan’s knuckles as gently as he knew how to be. He understood that Ryan was the type of person that you had to wait a while for, so he did. After all the waiting that Ryan had done for him, this was nothing, so he continued stroking his knuckles in a measured rhythm, as Ryan worked his jaw with his gaze fixed to the panelled floor.

Finally, he let out a tired sigh which seemed to suck all the vitality from him. In a small voice, “You remember yours, right?”

Shane smiled ruefully. “Every Christmas. Without fail,” he admitted. “It’s hard not to remember.”

“Yeah, it is,” Ryan conceded, but it was obvious his mind was still far away. “I wish we didn’t have to though.” He swallowed through the lump in his throat, fighting against the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “It hurts,” his voice cracked.

Shane immediately scooped him into a fierce hug, long arms encircling tightly enough to hold Ryan’s broken pieces together. He felt Ryan’s heaving sobs against his chest and hoped wildly that if he hugged him hard enough, maybe those pieces would fuse into a whole again. “Shh, Ryan, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve gotcha.” He soothed Ryan’s sobs with tender caresses and low shushing, carding comfort into his hair and cupping security at the back of his neck. It was better for Ryan to release his sadness than bottle it up.

“Every year I think about it, and every year it feels like a freshly opened wound,” Shane whispered into Ryan’s hair when his sobs had subsided somewhat. “But every year, I’m lucky enough to see you, and work with you, and laugh with you. It’s always so fun _being_ with you, that for a time, I don’t even remember it at all.” He pulled back a little, framing Ryan’s tear stained face in his hands, and pressing a kiss to his forehead lovingly. “We’d all always remember it, but for me, you make it hurt less. And one day,” he wiped the remaining tears away with his thumbs, “I hope I can do the same for you too.”

“Shane,” Ryan croaked, flinging his arms around the other’s neck and pulling him downwards. “Thank you.”

They stood wrapped up in each other for some minutes longer, before Ryan let go hesitantly and wiped his face with the edge of the jacket. “So,” he cleared his throat, “how did you get in here?” He gave Shane a once-over. “I don’t see a pass.”

“Keith let me in,” Shane said breezily, patting his pockets. He held up a packet of tissues triumphantly, cutting a comical figure amidst the raging snow, and passed it to Ryan for him to blow his nose. “You guys have shit security, by the way.”

“Budget cuts,” Ryan promptly replied before blowing his nose loudly into a tissue. It was such an endearing sight that Shane could not reign in his laugh, earning a weak hit on the shoulder.

“Always budget cuts.”

“Well Pot, it’s not like Krampus HQ has dazzling security measures either.”

“That’s because we don’t have super expensive presents that anyone could steal,” Shane said as if Ryan didn’t know all that already. “Hey, you think I can make off with a couple of iPads if I’m fast enough?”

Ryan snickered, and Shane counted it as a win. “Steven would flay you open when he finds out.”

“Uh-uh-uh,” Shane wagged a finger, “it’s _if_ he finds out.”

“Trust me,” Ryan patted the small of Shane’s back, “he always does. Now let’s get you to the portal before any of the top brass sees us.”

“Rushing me out like a smuggled hooker already. Is this the reward I get for being a caring boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan said with a smile, and pulled him down for a deep kiss.

* * *

“You can’t stop thinking about it can you?”

Ryan sighed and rolled over onto his stomach, wincing at the ache and marginally glad that Shane didn’t sound accusatory; only kept carding his fingers through his sweaty hair. “No,” he admitted sullenly, wiping his forehead on the bottom of his pillow. He felt Shane shift into a more comfortable position beside him.

“Have you talked to her?”

“She’s a nice kid. She’s not taking it too well, but there’s a strength hidden in her.”

Shane hummed, moving his hand to rub across Ryan shoulders. “She’s got all of you to look after her, so I’d say she’s in good hands.”

“As long as we don’t leave her with Jen alone, you mean,” Ryan sniggered at Shane’s faux shock.

“With Jen in charge, your precious little toy factory would burn down within the day.”

“I’d give it an hour. Tops.”

Shrugging, Shane shifted to his side to face Ryan more fully. “You’re cute when you worry,” he teased.

“Shut up, Shane.”

They both laughed at the automatic response, tangling their feet together as they lounged in the post-coital glow. Ryan reached for Shane’s hand, and interlaced them tightly. “I’ve always believed that heaven and hell do exist; but I never thought there was a weird rule about Christmas recruiting.”

“It’s an arbitrary system,” Shane conceded. “Die on Christmas Day, and maybe _you_ would get the chance to be headhunted into Santa or Krampus’ departments! No previous experience needed! All inclusive healthcare provided; not that you’d be needing it anyway!”

Ryan muffled Shane with his sweaty pillow, savouring the undignified squawk from it. “Sounds like the worst employment advert ever!”

“It’s practically word-for-word!” Shane retorted, struggling to lower the pillow.

“Tell that to Sara, and I assure you that you’d be coming home in a body bag. Maybe she’d even quarter you with her recruitment packages.”

Shane stilled, his hands still clutching the pillow. Whatever thought flew through his mind, it clicked in Ryan’s own as well. Ryan worried his lower lip as his heart rate picked up, and the threat of the unknown roiled in his gut. He forced himself to look straight at Shane, the only one who knew him better than he knew himself, who fit into his life like a missing puzzle piece. Shane, who gifted breath to his lungs and lava to his veins. Gathering his courage, Ryan timidly asked “Am I home?”

Like a fish out of water, Shane moved his jaw without sound for a few agonising moments; but his brows creased and a shimmering hope shone in his eyes. He broke their gaze, finding it all too much at once, and concentrated on their intertwined hands instead. “If you want to be.”

The grin on Ryan’s face threatened to split it open like a crisp watermelon. “Yes,” he breathed, reaching out to tilt Shane’s head towards him, wanting to see everything. “I do.”

“Ryan,” was all Shane managed to say before he lunged forwards, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss. He was never a wordsmith, so he hoped helplessly that with each nip and lick, with every caress and every laugh they shared; Ryan would understand the gratitude and the love he was trying to convey.

He did.

* * *

“I know we don’t age, but _damn_ ,” Ryan groused, clutching to his side in pain, “maybe we should put a restriction on the number rounds per night.”

“And miss out on all the spontaneity? Ryan,” Shane cooed woefully, “where’s your sense of romance?”

“Romance is here to stay, but sexy times should not feel like a triathlon.”

Shane snorted as he stretched on his back. “No one could ever be as bad as the 1904 Olympic marathon fiasco.”

“Were you there to see it?”

“You betcha, baby. It was an absolute melting pot of disaster.”

“Huh,” Ryan coked his head to the side. “I don’t actually remember where I was at the time.”

“Probably guzzling down hamburgers or something.” Ryan promptly threw a pillow at his head, which Shane failed to defend against even with all his flailing limbs. “Violence is not the answer, Bergara.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Ryan scoffed. “Violence is the question; and the answer,” he straddled Shane’s hips, pressing down to purr into the other’s ear, “is always _yes_.”

Shane groaned into his neck, burying his nose in it. “Fuck you.”

“I really don’t think you’d last another round,” Ryan teased coyly, laughing as Shane rolled them over forcefully. He pushed himself upwards to capture their lips in a soft kiss. “Shouldn’t we get up?”

“Yeah,” Shane said, but it was with a dreamy quality Ryan knew well; which meant that they were not leaving the confines of the bed anytime soon. Shane relinquished his hold on Ryan and flopped to his side, a thought brewing. “You love being Santa, don’t you?”

“I certainly don’t hate it.” Ryan perked his ears up, all other sensations leaving his body. Shane had his serious face on, and Ryan didn’t want to treat him flippantly. “Knowing that Santa and Krampus bring children joy, it’s one of the best things in the world.”

“You don’t have to be kind.”

“No,” Ryan said resolutely, holding onto Shane’s hand. “ _We_. Both of us.”

Shane smiled, a little ruefully. “Okay, we. And you love the children so much that you want to wrap them in hugs forever right?”

“Of course I do.”

“But Ryan, how long should we keep doing this?” He sat up partially. “I mean,” he faltered, running his thumb over Ryan’s knuckles, “we do bring a certain amount of joy to the children, but it’s once a year. Not only that, we’re basically just giving them stuff.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it per say, but don’t you want to be able to help them? And I mean really help them. There are so many children out there who don’t have loving homes or find it hard to fit in or don’t have basic needs.” He was aware, _he knew_ , that he was projecting slightly; but that didn’t stain the truth of it. “I just feel like we could do much more for them if we helped them at the root of their problems. Not just once a year.”

Ryan listened patiently to Shane, stitching his own opinions closed until he finished. “You know we can’t do that,” he began softly. “We can’t not do our jobs.”

“I know that,” Shane sighed tiredly. Ryan knew then that he must have been thinking over this for a long time. Shane tightened his grip. Here came the part that he was most scared of. He shuffled closer to Ryan who had mimicked his position. “What if we quit?”

“Quit?” Ryan whispered incredulously. “We can’t quit, it doesn’t—”

“—and what if I told you that I went through legal, and it’s not stipulated that we had to work in our jobs forever.” Shane sat up fully this time, pulling Ryan with him and looked unwaveringly into his eyes. “What if I told you that there is a chance that we could be human again?”

“Shane,” Ryan shook his head to dispel the negative thoughts already swirling like a pack of Dementors in his head. He took a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves. “They’d never let us.”

“No one knows that for sure,” Shane insisted, gripping their hands together even tighter. “We couldbe the very first to try, but only if you want to.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I won’t either.”

“Shane, that’s not fair.”

“Do you think I care for you so little that this would make any difference?” Shane bumped his forehead against Ryan’s own. “I don’t ever want to go where you wouldn’t be.”

Ryan hastily wiped a stray tear away with his arm. “It’s not going to be easy. But then again, I guess nothing is.”

“It might not be much, but,” Shane shrugged sheepishly, his face tinged in the lightest shade of pink, “you’ve got me.”

Ryan grinned widely into their kiss which felt like sealing a deal. “You’re all I need.”

* * *

“Let me get this straight,” Steven pressed his fingers to his temples. “You want to talk to Santa, who is literally our boss, and you want to quit?” At Ryan’s confident nod, Steven sunk further into his chair. Thankfully the meeting room was empty, and no one else was there to witness Steven’s deterioration from External Relations Manager to Exasperated Friend-Slash-Manager. “You know how crazy this sounds right?”

“Trust me, no one knows it better than I do.”

“You’re crazy, you two. Crazy married couple looking to change the world. It’s like the plot of a daytime soap opera aimed at housewives who yearn for adventure with a healthy side heap of romance and brazen laughs.”

“Yep,” Ryan conceded, popping the ‘ _p_ ’ loudly. “Weirdly accurate, but yep.”

Steven ran a hand down his face and fixed Ryan with a steady stare. “And you’re sure there’s nowhere in the book which states that we have to be here forever.”

Ryan nodded. “Shane showed me a photocopy of Section 33, Clause 3(b). We’re technically not bound to this forever.”

“Okay, so why are you telling me this again?”

Ryan shot his eyebrows up meaningfully.

“Oh no,” Steven shook his head, slashing his hand through the air. “No, no, no. Ryan. You may be one of my best friends, but _no_.”

“But _Steven_ ,” Ryan whined, not caring of what the other may think. “Stevie. Bro. Help another brother out.”

“No!” Steven pushed his seat further away, dodging Ryan’s hands clawing at the sleeve of his sweater. “I am not buttering up Yelena so she can pencil you in to meet with Santa.”

“You know how busy Santa is! He’s never around, and the only way to get to him is through Yelena!”

“But she’s scary!”

“I know she is, which is why I’m not the one doing it!” Ryan narrowly missed avoiding the pencil which Steven threw at him. “And you’re one of the only people she actually tolerates.”

“Because I bring her exotic food from my business trips and play nice.”

“So bring her food!”

“Do you know how expensive fried chicken drumsticks dunked in caviar is right now?” Steven nearly screeched. 

Ryan ducked to clutch at Steven’s garishly maroon pant legs, persisting even when Steven begged him to get up and _stop doing that, it’s not appropriate for friends to do that_. “I’m only letting you go if you agree,” Ryan pouted.

With a last futile shake, “What if I need to go to the bathroom?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“The floor is sticky and dirty.”

“I’m not wearing my favourite clothes anyway.”

“You really are going to stick to me like a limpet, aren’t you.”

Ryan said nothing, still staring up at Steven with his practiced puppy eyes.

“Fine, fine,” Steven agreed with a sigh, immediately regretting his decision. “I’ll help talk to Yelena for you.”

Ryan jumped up with a whoop of joy, punching the air. “Thank you Steven! You’re an angel!”

“When my bill for therapy comes in,” he threatened darkly, “you’re paying.”

* * *

“Hi Adam, hi Andrew,” Shane greeted with a languid wave as he neared Adam’s desk in front of Krampus’ office. The two snapped out of what seemed to be an intense conversation and nodded to Shane in unison.

Adam held out a piece of paper, “Here’s the information you wanted.”

“Thank you.” Shane was genuinely grateful that his friends would help him on such short notice and for such a perilous undertaking. Although he didn’t know how to say it, Adam’s responding smile signalled that he understood.

“Second thoughts?” Andrew asked, leaning his weight into the desk stacked high with paperwork, though neat and colour-coded thanks to Adam’s perfectionist tendencies.

Shane didn’t hesitate before answering, “No.” He fingered the edge of the paper he was holding between his trembling hands. “I think everyone saw this coming a long time ago.”

Andrew snorted a laugh while Adam hid his behind a forearm. “You never really were comfortable with the job,” Adam stated matter-of-factly. “It’s a good move.”

Uncharacteristically, Andrew reached up to land a few quick pats on Shane’s shoulder, comically having to tiptoe to do so. “Good luck buddy, we’re rooting for you and Ryan both.”

Shane didn’t know what else to say except “Thank you”; his chest muffled with cotton wool. “I think I should get going,” he nodded to the wooden door separating Krampus’ office from everyone else’s.

Adam slid a battered log book from one of the drawers, dusting off its once vivid green and silver cover and cracking open its yellowed onion pages. “Name, time. And sign here,” he handed Shane a ballpoint pen.

“By the way, have you seen Steven lately?”

Shane didn’t have to look up to detect an edge of worry in Andrew. “No, sorry. Something wrong?”

“No,” the other answered far too hastily, turning away from Adam’s pointed stare. He cleared his throat with a loud cough, “I was just wondering.”

* * *

The books towered over everything. Spines so worn they were falling apart, titles barely legible on them. Pages and pages of brown, fighting to burst through their covers after being perused through so often. The most prevalent smell was the musty haze that came from well-loved objects, and amidst it all sat Krampus. “Have a seat,” he gestured to the only empty chair in the room. Shane had to fight his irrational instinct to run, and tamp down his overwhelming want to run his hands over all the books in the room reverently. 

Krampus shuffled some papers aside, and dipped his pen into its holder, capping the inkwell. He noticed Shane’s enraptured stare. “I’m unused to pens,” he said in his usual monotonous tone. “I find them difficult to hold, because of, well,” he held up his own gnarled hand, claws on full display, “I’m sure you know.”

Shane nodded swiftly, not wanting to offend him in any way. He swallowed a few times before his voice worked, “It’s a very beautiful writing set. Sir,” he hastily tacked on the title.

“Thank you,” came the monotonous reply. Krampus slid a thin file from the precariously balanced stack on his right, opening it to a cloud of dust which made Shane cough and Krampus sneeze. “Shane Madej,” he mused with a stuffy nose, before Shane fished out some tissues from his own pocket and offered them. “Oh thank you, much obliged.” He crumpled the white tissue in his claws, and the image it formed was jarring. “It says here you’ve been with us for 280 years.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s not very long, is it?”

“No, sir.”

“Please,” Krampus lifted a hand, “you do not need to call me sir.”

“Alright.”

“Very well, where were we?”

“My years of employment s—” Shane caught himself and bit off the last word quickly as Krampus’ red and golden eyes narrowed.

He readjusted his specially made glasses and scratched a horn, contemplating. “You are unsatisfied?”

Shane didn’t think it was completely the right word, but he didn’t know what else to say either. “I’m… not exactly comfortable with my work, yes.”

“Nightmare production.”

“Nightmare production, yes,” he confirmed, curling his fists and willing them not to shake from nerves. “I know this may sound juvenile, but I don’t want to hurt the children; even if it is just in their dreams.”

Krampus stroked his long beard, and said nothing for a time. The tension grew so thick and heavy, a knife could have sliced through it like butter. Presently he said, “That’s not a very convenient quality in a Krampus I suppose.”

“No, it really isn’t,” Shane agreed, breathing shallowly.

Krampus leaned back in his chair, the old wood creaking all the way. He rubbed a wrist to relive the pain from writing. “Shane, what we do is for the benefit of the children.”

“I understand that.”

The air around them seemed to rattle with the tendrils of shadows. “Do you? Truly?”

Facing down his boss shouldn’t be as scary as this. He was Shane Alexander Madej goddamnit, and he would not be cowed into submission. “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth, “I do.” He clutched his fists tighter. “I know when I’m not suited for the job. If you keep me on, you’d merely be getting mediocre results. It’s more beneficial to us both, if I can be replaced with someone more competent.”

Krampus turned a page in his file agonisingly slowly. When he looked up again, the shadows on his face seemed to move and darken. “Assuming that I let you go and replaced you,” he jabbed a claw at the paper twice, “what exactly do you plan to do?”

“I want to help the children. Directly. Helping them shouldn’t just be about giving them gifts once a year to keep them happy. If we want to make a real change, no matter how small, we have to start by listening to their needs and accommodating them as best as we can. I think, no, I _know_ I can do it,” he ended resolutely. “Especially if it’s with the right people,” Ryan’s bright smile flashed into his mind, soothing him instantaneously. He lurched towards the comfort it offered, grabbed it tightly in both hands. “I’m sure that we can do it.”

Krampus drummed his fingers on the edge of his table, the other hand coming to rub at an eyebrow. “You’re confident that you can make a change?”

Shane injected steel into his voice, “Yes.”

A low hum, and then the drumming stopped. In what must have been the approximation of a smile, Krampus said “Must be a very special partner then.”

He could feel the heat crawling up his neck and blooming on his ears; in no time at all his tomato shaded face would betray his real feelings, he was sure of it.

Krampus brayed with laughter, an odd grating sound; but it also carried an undercurrent of genuine amusement. From somewhere far away, Shane realised that this was the first time he ever heard his boss break from his verbal monotony. The shadows in the room receded.

“Ah, to be young and passionate,” Krampus mused, reverting back to his usual tone; but there was also something there which spoke of nostalgia. “I assume you would like to wait for your partner to be released from his job as well?”

Shane blinked, “That would be ideal.”

“Idealism is not a business we deal in, Shane,” Krampus admonished without heat. “We manufacture dreams and illusions, but no one ever said they had to all be bad.” He pushed himself up by leveraging himself on the table which groaned under his weight.

Shane hurriedly stood up too. “I have some statistics here about labour in the workforce if you’d like to see it.”

But Krampus waved the paper away, stretching his legs. “We’ve always known we have an excess of souls. It’s a pity that you’re all inducted without a choice, but there’s not much I can do about it.” Was Shane imagining things or was that melancholy he detected? Krampus ploughed forwards, “The system is flawed, and the person who created the system,” he pointed his finger to the ceiling, “trust me, She loves to play games more than anyone I know.”

“Isn’t that unfair?”

“Nothing is fair,” Krampus scuffed his hooves, an action Shane recognised too well. “All we can do is to make the best of what we have.” He closed Shane’s file gently, and handed it to him. “Do inform me when your partner attains permission.”

Shane took the file with shaking hands. The surge of emotion which welled up in him wasn’t immediately identifiable; all he knew was that it made him dizzy with relief and hope. “Thank you, sir.”

Krampus huffed at the word, but let it pass. “I sincerely hope that he is successful. His superior is known to be, shall we say, a bit of a stick in the mud.” He waved Shane towards the door.

With his hand on the doorknob, Shane turned to face Krampus again. “If it’s not too impudent of me to ask,” he began, a niggling thought at the back of his brain, a discordant note which occurred in their exchange coming back to him. His boss nodded for him to go ahead. “Were you and Santa ever friends?”

Krampus clasped his hands behind his back, drawing himself to a fuller height, and drew his gaze towards the window. The thin light illuminated the dust motes in the air, and what Shane thought was the dust of age on Krampus’ face. “Once.”

“What happened?”

“He found a better friend in fame.”

* * *

Ryan jumped from foot to foot, his nervous energy drowning him. He wiped his palms on his pants for the umpteenth time, and they still felt as if he had kept them pruning in a basin for hours.

Yelena clicked her tongue, “Would you stop all that fidgeting.”

“Sorry,” Ryan replied on autopilot, attention fixed to the ornate door to Santa’s office.

Yelena rolled her eyes, a gesture which Ryan did not catch since her diminutive stature was dwarfed by the giant monitor she sat behind. “Sorry doesn’t sweeten my tea,” she spat, fingers never stopping on her keyboard, the sharp _tap-tap-taps_ echoing in the big waiting room, bouncing off the stylish chrome walls.

Ryan glared at the top of her coral hair, confident that she wouldn’t see. For all her deceptive appearances of an eight year old, Yelena has been one of the first to work for Santa. _She had been one of the first to die_ , came a voice in Ryan’s head which he swatted away with much effort. It was hard not to let his sympathy get the better of him. He checked his watch religiously, not only to appease his panicked mind about the time; but also because the watch which was given to him by Shane anchored him.

“It’s been 30 minutes,” he worried the watch, a comforting weight against his wrist.

Yelena leaned to the left to shoot daggers from her eyes at him. “And he’ll be with you _shortly_ ,” she seethed. “He’s a _very busy_ man.”

Admonished, Ryan dropped himself heavily onto one of the sleek red sofas which lined the walls, and kept an eye on his watch, occasionally comparing its time to the ticking of the clock which hung directly above Yelena’s head like a Damocles sword.

An hour and twenty-five minutes later, the ornate door swung open, and out came a harried employee in a green coat like the one Steven wore. He was still trying to stuff his oversize blueprints into his small briefcase, but before Ryan could help, Yelena screeched at him to go in.

Ryan gulped. His feet lead him quickly to the door, and he knocked on it timidly as he saw the figure seated at the table with a polished nameplate. “ _S. Claus”_ was printed on it.

“Come in,” Santa said gruffly, the rings on his fingers catching the light from the wide floor-to-ceiling windows. “And close the door.”

Ryan obediently did as he was told. He made to sit down, but Santa stopped him immediately.

“Come on, let’s make this quick,” Santa snapped his fingers at Ryan, “I don’t have all day.”

Ryan bristled, but told himself not to be antagonised. “I’ve come to resign, sir,” he said as politely as possible.

“Resign?” Santa smoothed his immaculately trimmed beard. His ice-blue eyes bore into Ryan angrily. “Are you stupid or what? Have you ever heard of anyone resigning before? No!”

“Sir, there’s an excess of employees, so I don’t think it would be detrimental even ifI were to resign.”

“And have all our veteran staff replaced by trainees?” Santa scoffed. He narrowed his eyes, “Wait, you have been with us for more than a century at least, right?”

“Yes sir, and —”

“What was your name again?”

“Bergara, sir.” Ryan gritted his teeth, fists curled at his side. “Ryan Bergara.”

“Okay, well,” Santa slid his phone from the pocket of his maroon and white pinstripe blazer, tapping on the screen, “no I won’t let you go.”

“But sir! You haven’t even heard my reasons yet!”

“I don’t need to hear it!” Santa snapped, pointing a thick finger at Ryan. “I don’t have time for your bullshit excuses, okay? We run a well-oiled machine here, and I don’t need some upstart fucking it all up by planting this stupid idea of quitting in everyone’s heads!”

“They’re not excuses!” Ryan protested hotly, struggling to keep his anger from boiling over. He didn’t think punching his boss in the face would help his case. “I don’t think that I can achieve much in my job, and I’m _sure_ that I can help change the lives of children for the better if I’m actually down there with them.”

“And now I gotta hear it?” Santa rounded his glass table, patented leather shoes clicking against the oak floor. “Get out of here.”

Ryan scowled and dug his heels in. “Not until you listen to the end.”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” Santa bellowed, his voice shaking the walls. “Now get out before you waste any more of my time! I’ve got press to attend to and bigwigs to smooch up to, so scram.”

“I thought you were supposed to be caring, sir,” Ryan muttered, gaze not breaking away.

“Yelena! Get security in here!” He turned to face Ryan fully, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Listen very carefully, you punk. Your little comments here today are gonna get you demoted, you hear me? Since you dislike your job so much, you can have a shittier one instead, how about that?”

The door swung open, rattling on its hinges. “Wait just one minute!”

“Steven?”

Steven strode in confidently, the power-walk which Ryan saw so often propelling him across the room with purpose despite the ugly green coat he wore. He could see Yelena’s coral hair bouncing with rage in the doorway.

“Mr. Claus, sir,” Steven greeted stiffly, “my colleague here has very viable reasons which he’d like to present to you regarding his resignation.”

“And who the hell are you?” Santa squinted.

Ryan had to give Steven credit for not wavering for even a moment. “I’m Steven Lim, one of your External Relations Managers.” From out of nowhere, he whipped out a crisp piece of paper and handed it to Santa, which the superior snatched. “Section 33, Clause 3(b).”

Santa skimmed the document rapidly, scowled, and crumpled it in his large, weathered hand. “This means nothing.”

“It's company policy,” Steven retorted with the strength of Heracles. “It means _everything_.”

“I’m in charge,” Santa growled as he tore the document to pieces and scattered its remains onto the floor in a waterfall of snowflakes, “and whatever I say goes.” He kicked at the demolished rule. “What the fuck were your names again?”

“Ryan.” “Steven.” They answered simultaneously.

“Yeah well, guess what, it’s your lucky day!” He snarked, clasping his hands together. Ryan thought he saw the hints of a tattoo as the sleeve of Santa’s suit rode up. “Brian, Steve; you’re both demoted! Take them away, boys!”

Two burly men in ugly festive sweaters grabbed Ryan and Steven by the arms, pulling them out of the office. “You can’t do this!” Steven shouted as he tried to kick the man holding fast onto him in the shins.

Ryan jabbed at his in the chest, hitting the ‘ _Hoe-Hoe-Hoe_ ’ font of the sweater with no result. “It’s not Steven's fault!” he shouted as he planted his heels into the floor, dragging out his time as long as possible. “You don’t have to do anything to him! Just me!”

Before the door slammed shut, they saw Santa turn his back to them and give them the finger.

* * *

Shane rubbed gentle circles into Ryan’s wrists, mindful of the mottled bruises there. Every sight of those blue-black marks made him livid with anger, but that wasn’t what Ryan needed right now. He pressed kisses into Ryan’s hair, each one a facsimile of an apology. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, clocking the hitching of Ryan’s shoulders against his own chest.

“I didn’t know Santa could be such a bitch,” Ryan grumbled, his voice scratchy from shouting. He and Steven had been delegated to shovelling coal into the furnaces to keep the building warm, and it was menial work which shouldn’t even have existed in such a modern place. _Guess the only real purpose it serves is for torture,_ Ryan confirmed as he saw the other faces around them, covered in soot and numbness.

When he knocked on the door to their home, Shane had opened it with mirth in his face which immediately dropped as he took in Ryan’s soot-stained appearance. A thorough bath and a hearty meal later, Ryan narrated the whole story to Shane, who couldn’t stop making pained noises. At the mention of how they were dragged out of the office kicking and screaming, Shane’s eyes clouded over with a black smoke, his intent flickering against the magical restriction. “I’m going to fucking kill him,” he muttered darkly, fingers twitching as his claws failed to elongate.

For once, Ryan had to be the cool-headed one for both of them. “Don’t” he wound his own hands with Shane’s, “it won’t achieve anything.”

“He hurt you, Ryan,” Shane reasoned with such hurt present on his face that it made Ryan’s heart clench with guilt.

Knowing that denying the truth would piss Shane off even more, “He may be an asshole, but violence isn’t going to solve this.”

“What happened to answering yes to violence?” Shane tried lightheartedly, but the expression on his face failed him.

“Not in this case,” Ryan smiled apologetically. “There has to be another way.”

“Ryan,” Shane pleaded.

“Can I get a hug? Please?”

Without another word, Shane scooped him up into the tightest hug Ryan had ever received, his chest cracking at the insecurity and fragility of Ryan’s voice. They held onto each other as they flailed in the sea of their troubles and emotions, naturally gravitating towards the couch where they hunkered down for the night.

“I don’t know if there’s anything I can do,” Ryan confessed, calmed by Shane’s steady heartbeat behind him. “At the very least, I need to reverse the situation for Steven. God, I feel so guilty about it.”

“Steven Lim is one tough trooper.”

“You should’ve seen him stand up to Santa, man. It was awesome,” Ryan enthused. He would never have imagined a rule follower like Steven to have nerves of steel going up against absolute authority. Maybe he didn’t know him that well after all.

Shane nuzzled Ryan’s ear. “I’m sure you both were. You’re stupidly brave after all.”

Ryan faux snorted. “Aren’t you?” He turned around in Shane’s embrace to face him properly, grinning. “You who avoids confrontation like the plague managed to convince Krampus to let you go.”

Shane made a string of unintelligible noises. “You say convinced, but it was more like he was just going through the motions.”

“Stop selling yourself short, it was the strength of your resolution which convinced him.”

“Youth and passion, actually. Or that’s what he said.”

“Point is,” Ryan punctuated by bringing their linked hands up, kissing Shane’s knuckles with a bright smile, “You did it, and I’m so proud of you.”

Shane unlaced a hand free to cup Ryan’s cheek. “I’ll wait for you.”

“It may never happen,” Ryan said mournfully, already beginning to untwine their connected hands, but Shane did the reverse.

“I told you before,” Shane’s voice shone with sincerity, “I don’t want to go where you wouldn’t be.”

“Shane.”

“We’ll make it work,” he promised, pulling Ryan closer to him. “I’ll help us find a way out of this.” The kiss he planted on Ryan’s lips was an oath he intended to keep.

* * *

They were into their third day of coal shovelling when Ryan paused, leaning against the shovel to towel off the endless rivulets of sweat from his face. He turned to Steven beside him who was much scrawnier than he was, but who kept up a steady pace. “I’m sorry,” he blurted.

“For the I-can’t-remember-how-manieth time,” Steven shovelled another load of coal, then stopped momentarily, shooting Ryan a kind smile to soften the tease, “it’s not your fault. I did it of my own accord.”

“But if I didn’t ask you to help me in the first place—”

“—I still would’ve heard about it somehow, and would have spied in on your conversation, and the whole sequence of events wouldn’t change.”

“But Steven, you’re not meant to be here. You’ve worked so hard for that position!”

“I did,” Steven agreed breezily, stuffing more coal into the ravenous fire, “but I never said I liked it.”

“So you’re just going to spend the rest of your days here?” Ryan pointed all around them to punctuate his point. “In this shit hole? No offence to anyone who actually _loves_ it here.”

Steven shook his head with an eye roll. “Of course I’m not planning on staying here for long.”

Ryan’s ears perked up. “So you have a plan?”

“Not at all,” Steven sung, shovelling coal.

“Then how would you even—!”

“Ryan, Ryan, Ryan.” He cleaned his sooty face with the towel around his neck. “You my friend, just need to have a little faith.”

“What faith?”

At that exact moment, the PA system buzzed loudly to life, stopping everyone in their tracks. “Ryan Bergara and Steven Lim, report yourselves to head office immediately,” crackled Yelena’s reedy voice. She repeated her sentence irately once more before the PA system whirred off for another forty years again.

Steven smirked like that cat that got the canary. “You were saying?”

* * *

Ryan took immense pleasure inrunning his soot-stained hands all over the pristine red sofas of the waiting room and smearing more soot onto the clean walls. What he loved the most was Yelena’s death glares directed squarely at him coupled with her inability to do anything. Petty revenge was sweet.

Yelena’s monitor pinged loudly, and she practically shrieked at them to go in. Having run low on soot, Ryan wiped some of it off Steven’s arm and purposely lathered the doorknob with it, enjoying how a vein in Yelena’s forehead popped like a firecracker.

“Come on,” Steven urged, pushing them forwards.

The door opened to reveal a fuming Santa pacing on one side of the room, his footsteps thudding like an earthquake. On the other end was, who Ryan and Steven assumed could only be, Krampus. He cut an impressively tall figure, looming over them all, even Santa. His stillness was so complete, at first Ryan took him to be a new odd ornament his boss had installed for the fun of it.

“Hey Ryan, hey Steven,” Shane greeted cheerfully from one of the expensive looking chairs in front of Santa’s glass table. He had a sheaf of papers in his lap, and was seated casually with his legs crossed at the knees.

“What are you doing here?” Ryan asked with disbelief as Steven said “Hi Shane!” at the same time.

Shane dumped the papers on the table unceremoniously, much to Santa’s frowned chagrin, and enveloped Ryan in a hug, soot and all.

“So that’s Ryan,” Krampus mulled; his monotonous tone new to the Santa aids. “Since we’re all here, shall we get started?”

“ _Shane_ ,” Ryan hissed with urgency as the other moved to stand beside him, hand clasping his own; but Shane didn’t respond, merely nodding towards Krampus.

“I have reviewed and discussed your case with Santa Claus, and we have decided to respect your wishes regarding your requests for resignation.” Krampus spread out the papers on the glass table. “You both have had clean track records, and have served a minimum of a 100 years in your respective fields, which shows commitment and responsibility.”

“Oh cut the bullshit, Krampus!” Santa stopped pacing, crossing his arms over his toned chest. “You’re wasting my time here.”

But Krampus was undeterred; in fact he deliberately slowed the pace by patting his cloak in search for his glasses, and made a show of cleaning them before putting them on. His eyes glowed red and gold as he blinked, “I think I should change my prescription soon.”

A laugh escaped from Steven behind Ryan and Shane, Santa casting them a glare poisonous enough to kill a herd of elephants.

“As such, _we_ ,” Krampus said significantly, “think that it is only right for us to follow the rules and allow you two the freedom you so wish. You are aware that you will become human, lose your immortality and what magic manipulation you have, yes?”

They nodded in unison, Ryan tightening his grip on Shane’s hand. He didn’t know which one of them was shaking; maybe it was both.

“Then I see no problems with this, do you Santa?”

“Have you forgotten who you are?” Santa spat. “Have you stayed in your dark little lair for so long that you’ve forgotten what happens when we lose believers?”

Krampus huffed a frustrated breath. “I’m only too aware of it, considering I don’t have a reach as far as you do. But our problems do not concern them.”

“You may be alright with disappearing, but I’m not!” Santa yelled fiercely, shaking the room. “I’ve worked tirelessly to secure my spot, people believe in me because I make an effort to put myself out there. What do you think all these stupid meetings are for? Fun?”

“And in prioritising the continuation of your existence, what have you done for the children these past centuries?”

“I’ve done my job! I’ve fulfilled their Christmas wishes! Isn’t that enough?”

“The way I see it,” Krampus raised his voice for the first time to drown out Santa’s, “you care more to be loved. That’s not the same as loving.”

“Why don’t you get off your fucking high horse?”

“You loved them more, once. Sandy, you loved them more than anyone else.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Santa growled darkly.

“I’m really sorry for interrupting this feud, but uh, what about us?” Ryan pointed to himself and Shane. “I mean, we’re extremely thankful that you’ve made a decision in our favour. That being said, is there some ritual or contract we have to complete before we’re officially let go?”

“Yes, of course,” Krampus jumped towards the lifeline that Ryan extended. “We need to expel the seals on your souls, after which you will revert to being human. You will have seven business days to tie up your affairs and move to live in the human world.” He turned to address Santa, “If you would.”

Santa grumpily beckoned Ryan forward. Shane gave him a comforting squeeze of the hand. Stopping in front of the imposing figure, Ryan felt that he would certainly not miss his boss, but he would miss those magical nights which he did some good. _You’re going to be able to do so much more_ , a voice sounding like a cross between his and Shane’s piped up in his mind. _A whole new world awaits._

“Ryan Steven Bergara,” Santa chanted as he stretched a palm out, hovering in front of Ryan’s forehead. A pinkish glow emanated from the rough palm, and with a cartoonish poof of pink smoke, Ryan alarmingly found himself in his Santa costume, complete with belly pouch and beard. “ _I thank you for your service, you have proved you are no novice; and I give you your catharsis_ ,” he grated out as if the words physically pained him. Ryan felt something like magic or his immortality draining from the extremities of his body towards Santa’s outstretched palm. With a loud _pop_ , Ryan was suddenly free from his Santa costume. He flexed his hands, the uncanny feeling of having his blood drained from him still present.

“Shane Alexander Madej,” Krampus chanted more monotonously and more neutrally, a crooked claw pointing towards Shane’s forehead. Shane’s Krampus form materialised, his eyes colouring into a coal black, horns and hooves on full display. His claws came up tentatively to tug at his horns for the last time. Krampus gave an approximation of a knowing smile. “ _Nightmares suit not you; there’s more that I know you can do, so I bid you a heartfelt adieu_.” Shane’s horns and hooves loosened their forms, swirling and dissolving into black smoke which dissipated in the air. Shane fidgeted, there was an itch he couldn't scratch anymore. 

“You’re free to go,” Krampus said as Shane and Ryan looked at each other with success, some confusion and an abundance of tender hope. “Good luck, Ryan Bergara and Shane Madej.”

* * *

Ryan took a last look at the bedroom to check that he had packed everything before sealing the final box up with duct tape. Some part of him still couldn’t believe that it was so easy.

Two sharp knocks on the frame of the door, and Shane came striding in, pressing a lazy kiss to Ryan’s cheek. “All good to go?”

Ryan chewed on his thumb meditatively. “Maybe I should check one more time.”

“Oh no you don’t. You’ve done it so many times now, we’d be bringing the dust bunnies with us at this rate.”

“Jerk,” Ryan clicked his tongue. The stark bareness of the room hit him then, an immediate reminder to the actual change that was happening to them. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Shane detected the tension in the line of Ryan’s shoulders. “Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to grasp Ryan’s hand in his own to assure him, “we can do this. It’s us after all.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed, and it wasn’t tinted with the waves of worry he was restricting at bay. That could come later. For now, he wanted to believe in this moment, he wanted to believe in _them_. He looked into those kind brown eyes he loved too much, and smiled. “Together.”

“Together,” Shane promised, and Ryan believed it.

* * *

If they eventually set up an organisation for children in need, if they created centres for children who had run away from home, if they had a hand in protesting against the injustice of the system towards children; and if a few years later Steven had quit his job and joined them, and between the three of them decided to create a platform which brought joy in a different way to different people; no one had to know the exact details.

If, as a middle finger to irony and cosmic coincidences, they decided to dress up in discount versions of who they used to be and make jokes on a camera for all to see; then that’s a secret between you and me.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> It’s been an unbelievable ride, I never thought the lore would morph into something this specific, and I never thought that anyone would read it. 
> 
> If you likes this series, I would appreciate it greatly if you shared these fics with others! Spread the lore and feel free to expand on it as you please! (If you caught some Standrew hints, please don’t hesitate to run with the idea either, I would love to read your work!) 
> 
> Check out my other Shyan fics if you’re interested. 
> 
> That’s all for now, I think. Unsure if I would write a final wrap-up for a glimpse into their life after since this ending works just as well. Do let me know, and I’ll try to accommodate as best as I can. Bye for now!


End file.
